I'm Bleeding Out
by IWannaLiveInABigBlueBox
Summary: Blaine used to cut. A lot. But after he met Kurt he was able to stop. When him and Kurt breakup he starts again. Warnings: self harm, blood, and talk of bullying and infidelity


**Summary: Blaine used to cut. A lot. But after he met Kurt he was able to stop. When him and Kurt breakup he starts again.**

**Warnings: self harm, blood, and talk of bullying and infidelity**

**Word count: ~5,000**

The first time had been an accident. He was fourteen when it happened, dicing an onion and trying to blame the tears streaming down his face on that and not on the fact that Daniel (the person that not even six months ago he'd called his best friend) had thrown him in the dumpster. Again.

His hand had slipped and he sliced into his finger. He'd just simply stared at it in shock. It had been months since he'd felt anything. But it _hurt_. Like… a lot. He'd washed it off in the sink, loving the way the red contrasted with his skin tone. It was beautiful.

He wondered what it would be like if it happened again. Would it still hurt or would the numbness have returned by then. He knew people did that and he never quite understood why, but now he wanted to try it.

He finished dicing the onion and sat down at dinner with his family. Afterwards he had slid a steak knife under his sleeve and slipped upstairs to bed.

He sat on his bathroom floor for over an hour with the knife in his hand. He wanted to do it but he was terrified. Terrified of cutting too deep, terrified of someone finding out, terrified of not being able to stop once he started. But eventually his need to feel _something _won out.

He'd gasped at the way the knife dragged and caught on his skin. The pain sparked through him, making him shiver, but he loved it. He'd watched the blood bubble up in beads on his skin, slipping down his wrist and dropping onto the white tile. He was mesmerized by it.

And that was how it started.

Sadie Hawkins was when it stopped. Or at least that's what his parents thought. They'd found the scars while he'd been recovering in the hospital. They'd sent him to Dalton, where he would have a roommate and they thought he wouldn't find the alone time or the privacy to cut himself anymore.

And they were right, not just because of the privacy issue, but because he had friends. And for the most part, everything was good.

Except for the days when it wasn't. The days when the hollow gnawing in his chest was too much and he just had to escape, find a way to get free, get away, make it stop. He didn't care about privacy on those days, he'd just run into his room and find his razor (he found it was easier to use and easier to wash off and hide after about a month) and drop on the floor, the tightness in his chest easing after the first slice and getting lesser with every cut until it was gone.

His lack of care is how Jeff found out.

It had been a particularly bad day and he'd fled the room after Warbler practice, not even thinking about the fact that Jeff would be coming back to their shared dorm too. He'd barely started the first cut when the door opened.

"Blaine?" Jeff called into the room and Blaine froze, "You okay? You rushed out of there pretty quickly, buddy."

Blaine didn't speak, couldn't speak, his voice was trapped in his throat, his razor was still pressed to his wrist and he couldn't move, couldn't do anything except sit there and wait for Jeff to come around and see him on the floor next to his bed, and see the proof of how fucked up he was.

The gasp finally made his muscles unseize. He dropped the bloody instrument and scrambled backward, hiding in the small space in between his bedside table and Jeff's.

"Blaine," Jeff breathed, "oh, buddy…" he crouched down, picking up the razor. It glinted in the dim light and Blaine made a grab for it but Jeff held it above his head, out of Blaine's reach.

"P-please, Jeff," Blaine whimpered, slumping back to the floor in defeat, "don't… don't tell anyone, okay?" he took a shuddering breath, looking up at his friend.

Jeff thought for a moment before nodding slowly, "I'm just going to tell one person."

"N-not the counselor," Blaine begged, "he can't help, I know he can't."

Jeff shook his head, "Not the counselor, someone else. I'll be right back, don't move," he started heading towards the door, "except…" he backtracked to the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and tossed it to Blaine, "stop the bleeding," he ordered before leaving Blaine alone again.

Blaine obediently did as he was told.

Jeff's person, ended up being Nick, who had had his own self harm problems after his brother had been killed in a car accident. Nick helped Blaine to stop. He was understanding and very patient and with Jeff doing constant checks for sharp object in their room, Blaine was better. He still had his bad days, but Nick and Jeff were very good about picking up on them and helping him through them in a healthier way.

Things were good.

Things were really good.

Until Christmas.

Blaine's grandmother had never liked him. Cooper was her favorite, and Blaine was the little runt who had untamable hair and had always acted a bit queer. When he had finally come out as gay, her dislike had turned to hatred. Blaine had tried everything in his power to get her to like him…

He used a thumb tack.

Every time he went to the kitchen to try and snatch a knife his mother was in there, making cookies or cleaning or something. All his dad's tools were in locked boxes for specifically this reason, and his parents even kept his razor in their en suite bathroom, and he wasn't allowed to shave without supervision. It may have been months since they'd last seen fresh scars, but his family wasn't taking any chances.

The only sharp things that remained in his room were the push pins on his cork board, holding his pictures up.

He finally got desperate enough and took down a picture of him and Cooper with Santa when he was about four. He stripped himself of his pants and sat on the floor by his bed. He pressed the sharp point into the skin of his thigh (his parents were constantly checking his wrists, and he wasn't allowed to wear long sleeves) it didn't cut as smoothly as his razors had, but it hurt, and that was what he needed. It caught and dragged across his skin, making uneven and shaky lines that barely even breached his flesh, but it was helping.

He leaned back against his mattress when he was done, the stress melting away and the stinging pain on his thighs being the only thing he could feel. He barely even registered his bedroom door opening through the haze.

"Hey, B, Mom, wants you to come hel—" Cooper froze.

Blaine blinked up at him tiredly, moving slowly to put the tack away but Cooper grabbed his wrist and pulled it from his hand. "Jesus, Blaine," Cooper breathed.

Blaine didn't respond, just stood slowly and started to pull his pants back on, the denim caught on the fresh cuts and the renewed pain sent a shiver up his spine.

"I should tell Mom and Dad," Cooper told him, still looking at the tack as though it were some evil thing, like it had caused all the problems that had made Blaine want to hurt himself.

Blaine shrugged, "Go tell them then. In fact, go tell them right in front of Granny and make sure she hears, so she'll get to know how truly fucked up I am and have yet another reason to hate me," his tone wasn't angry, just tired and vaguely detached.

Cooper shook his head, "All that will do is make them upset and ruin their Christmas."

"That's me, the person who ruins family gatherings with his fagginess and the self harm that apparently comes with it."

"Don't call yourself that," Cooper snapped and Blaine flinched. Cooper sighed, "I hate that you do this to yourself, B. You don't deserve this…"

Blaine didn't say anything.

Cooper sighed and went to the cork board and started pulling out all the pins. "Can you do something for me Blaine?" he asked as he worked, tossing the pins in the trash can.

Blaine shrugged again.

"Next time… next time you feel like hurting yourself. For whatever reason… get an ice cube," he turned back to him a pleading look in his eyes, "and hold that, either just in the palm of your hand, against your wrist, on your thigh, wherever you feel like. Just, please, please, don't… cut yourself. Please?"

Blaine nodded, "I'll try."

And he did. Most of the time the ice worked. It gave him the pain he craved, but without the physical marks he would have to hide. But not all the time. Sometimes he needed to see the blood, needed to watch it run down his wrists, needed to be able to feel it for days after.

Over the summer his parents got more lenient, stopped searching his room for razors and checking the knife drawer to make sure they were all accounted for. And when he went back to Dalton he got a single room, thanks to his outstanding grades the year prior and his spot as the lead soloist of The Warblers.

It was very easy to forget to try the ice first and just go straight for the razor when he didn't have to worry about someone walking in on him.

But then _he _came into Blaine's life. The first night Blaine got back to his room after that coffee with Kurt… he didn't want to cut. It had become almost ritualistic for him. Walk in the door, hang his blazer, fold his shirt, switch to sweatpants, sit in the bathroom, cut (two on each wrist seemed to do the trick most days), clean up, climb into bed, hate himself for disappointing Cooper, sleep, wake up the next morning, make a few more cuts, then head down to breakfast and eat with The Warblers, smiling at Nick and Jeff like everything was perfect and he wasn't slipping further and further down his self destructive path.

So when he walked in the door and all he wanted to do was collapse into bed with a good book and his cell phone by his side (so he could listen for texts from Kurt) he was a bit surprised and thrown off, but he didn't fight it.

And then the next few times things would get difficult and he would feel that gnawing urge, he'd generally end up propped against his bathtub with a pail of ice cubes next to him and his phone pressed to his ear while he listened to Kurt babble on and on about planning Mercedes birthday party, or what should he wear to go see Wicked in Columbus next weekend.

Then Kurt was at Dalton, and he didn't even seem to need the ice anymore. Kurt was like spring after the longest winter of Blaine's life and he seemed to fix everything, healing all the bruises and cuts, whether they be mental or physical, and always there for Blaine to lean on.

It was perfect.

And even when Kurt went to Mckinley, Blaine was still fine. He followed soon after, because while he was coping without having Kurt constantly, he missed him.

Then he went to New York and for the first few weeks or so everything was great. Then Kurt slipped into his life, and started forgetting about Blaine, ignoring him or cutting their calls short.

It hurt. A lot. Blaine's anchor, his light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be leaving him in the dust and he couldn't catch up. He needed a different anchor. Something else to keep him going… but he couldn't. Kurt had seen his scars, and when he'd asked about them Blaine had told him everything, because he was Kurt. He'd even felt daring enough to tell him that one of the biggest reasons why he had stopped was because of him. And Kurt had told him that if he ever felt the urge again, no matter where their relationship stood, whether they were still best friends or hadn't talked in years, that Blaine could go to him.

But Kurt wasn't there. He barely talked to Blaine and when he did it was always about him. Blaine needed an outlet and he needed it fast.

Eli was a friend of Nick's. He'd been the one to help pull Nick out of his depression, and Nick had told Blaine that if he ever needed a person to talk to, one that wasn't biased toward liking him, and knew nothing about his life, but that understood what he was going through, he could go to Eli.

Eli became everything that Kurt was no longer…

But that only made him feel worse. They only kissed once, and Blaine felt terrible about it. He had to tell Kurt. He wasn't surprised when Kurt broke up with him… he'd probably been looking for a way out anyway, and Blaine had given that to him. Kurt was probably ecstatic to be rid of his stupid Ohio boyfriend. Now he could date all the hot New York boys and get over Blaine. Blaine wasn't holding him back anymore…

Blaine was happy for him.

—

Cooper snuck up the stairs to Blaine's bedroom, hopping over the steps he knew creaked. It had been too long since he'd been home, and he knew. And by the looks of the kitchen, take out boxes filling the trash can and leftover pizza in the fridge, it had been a while since their parents had been home either, probably gone on vacation or a business trip.

He turned the doorknob as silently as possible and poked his head in. The room was dark.

"Blaine?" he called. His car was in the driveway… though he might have gone out with friends. "B? You in here?"

Silence. He stepped fully into the room, looking around. There were clothes strewn across the floor, pictures fluttering in the draft from the ceiling fan, torn off the cork board. And a scrap book sitting in the floor by Blaine's bed. He crossed the room and picked it up, freezing when he saw blood smeared on the cover and a red stained razor lying next to it.

"Blaine?" he called again, louder, his heart hammering in his chest, "Blaine!" he screamed, throwing the door to Blaine's ensuite bathroom open, but he wasn't in there. He rushed through the house, searching every room, but Blaine wasn't there. He pulled out his phone and called him but it went immediately to voicemail.

"Dammit, B," he hissed, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He looked around the room desperately, searching for a sign of where his little brother could be when an idea hit him.

He pulled into the playground parking lot and turned the car off. Sitting in his seat, he watched Blaine, sitting alone on the swings, staring blankly ahead, his feet dangling above the ground. He sighed, climbed out, and walked over, taking the swing next to Blaine.

He had gauze wrapped around his left wrist, but he hadn't even bothered putting on a jacket or long sleeved shirt to hide the wounds.

"I thought Kurt told you you could always talk to him," Cooper started. Blaine had never wanted to go to his brother for help with his depression. He didn't like talking about it with anyone really and only did when they forced him to. Except for Kurt. Kurt was the only person Blaine would willingly ask for help from.

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath but didn't speak.

Cooper cocked his head to the side, "B? Why didn't you call Kurt?"

Blaine shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, "W-we…" he took a deep, shuddering breath, "he broke up with me."

Cooper tensed, his hand automatically going for his phone. He was going to give Kurt a piece of his mind for breaking his brother's heart.

The action didn't go unnoticed, "Don't, Coop," Blaine said, his voice hoarse.

"He hurt you," Cooper hissed, thumbing through his contacts to the K's.

"I cheated on him," Blaine whimpered, his whole body slumping in the swing, a few tears slipping down his face.

Cooper paused, taking in the full sight of his brother. His jeans were loose and worn, the ankles torn. He was wearing a holey T-shirt and his hair was ungelled, his curls going wild atop his head and he was paler than usual. He looked terrible, and beneath the pain Cooper could see a clear look of guilt.

"Blaine…"

"I can't… he won't talk to me. He won't let me apologize… and I just… I feel like I'm floating. I needed something to… ground me," he stared wretchedly at his bandaged wrist.

"How many?" Cooper asked quietly.

"Today?"

Cooper took a deep breath.

"Six… I think, I don't really count… I just go until I feel better."

"How long has it been since you started again?"

Blaine shrugged, "I-I tried to hold off after we broke up… I only lasted a day or so, though. I don't really know how long it's been, I stopped calling Kurt after two days, stopped texting after five. After that… time just kind of… goes by, I don't really notice it."

Cooper nodded slowly. Blaine had never been that bad before. The cutting was just a way to cope and it was very difficult to tell that anything was wrong from the outside. He had still always been his bright, peppy self when others were around, and only slipped into his melancholy when he thought no one was looking. This… this was something different.

"Let's go home, let me check your cuts and make you some dinner."

Blaine didn't speak, just stood and walked to the car.

—

"What?" Kurt snapped when he picked up the phone.

Cooper sighed, glancing into the living room where Blaine was curled up on the couch, staring vaguely in the direction of the TV where Aladdin was playing.

"I'm not calling to guilt trip you into anything," he started, "you have every right to be angry with Blaine and I know that. I actually have been debating for the better part of the night about whether or not I should tell you at all, but I figured you'd want to know, so I'm just going to say it. Blaine's cutting again."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Kurt's end of the line and then silence.

Cooper waited, watching as Blaine scratched at the bandages around his wrists.

"Is… is he okay? I-I mean—"

"He's very far from okay, but he's not in mortal peril if that's what you're asking," Cooper told him, "he's made… dozens of cuts, but none of them are too deep. His mental state is more what I'm worried about… how long ago did you two breakup?"

"About a month… why?"

"Blaine couldn't tell me. He's… really out of it. He didn't know how long it had been, all he knew what that after five days he stopped texting you so it had to be at least that long. He's really worrying me…" Cooper bit his lip, blinking quickly.

"I… I don't know what I can do. I'm not just going to get back together with him because he's hurting. I'm hurting too, Cooper."

"I know, Kurt. I wouldn't expect you to do that, and I'm not even saying you have to do anything. I just wanted you to know," he paused, forcing a small smile when Blaine looked back at him. Blaine didn't return it, just went back to staring into space. "If you do want to do something though… you could call him, give him someone to talk to. You always helped before, maybe you can pull him out of this," Cooper shrugged even though Kurt couldn't see him.

"Yeah… yeah, I'll-I'll call him," Kurt said quietly.

"Just… not tonight, okay? I'm gonna try and get him talking, see if I can force some food into him… maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll call tomorrow after work…" both men were silent for a few minutes, "Thanks for telling me, Coop."

Cooper nodded, "Of course, Kurt."

They hung up and Cooper went back into the living room. "You hungry, B?" he asked gently.

Blaine shrugged.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Blaine shrugged again.

Cooper nodded, "Okay, I'm going to make us some dinner, can you just… stay here? Don't… watch the movie and don't move, okay?"

Blaine didn't respond.

Cooper sighed and went into the kitchen.

—

"Did he eat anything?" Kurt asked Cooper the next day during his break.

"A few crackers and a little bit of soup, but that's it," Cooper sounded tired.

Kurt nodded, his own lunch abandoned on his desk. "Did you hide the razors and knives?"

Cooper sighed, "No, that doesn't do anything. If he wants to cut, he'll do it. He'll use his nails if he has to, or bite himself. At least he knows what he's doing with the razors, he knows how to control it, he could hurt himself really bad if he tried to use something else."

"So you're just going to let him do it?" Kurt snapped, "Is that why it took him so long to stop before? Did you even _try _to help him?"

"Kurt, I know it sounds terrible, but this is one side of Blaine you've never seen. There is really no way to stop him if he doesn't want to stop. I'm not going to stop trying to get him to talk through things, and I'm still trying to convince him to give me the razors willingly. I can't do much more than just be here. Which, is something I needed to talk to you about…"

"What?" Kurt asked, worried, "What's wrong?"

"I have to go back to LA at the end of the week, I have a movie I'm doing and they start filming then. I can't get out of it, trust me, I've tried."

"B-but Blaine needs you there. He can't be alone right now, Cooper!"

"I know, Kurt. But he has other people here than just me. I was hoping you could call the Glee club and see where the fuck they've been this past month, and maybe your dad. I know Blaine may not be his favorite person since the breakup… but he's always been an understanding man before, hasn't he? I just need people to be here for Blaine, since you and I won't be able to."

Kurt nodded again, "I'll see what I can do."

"You're still calling him tonight, right?"

"Of course, I get off work at five, I was gonna call him the minute I got home, is that okay?"

"That should be great, Kurt. Thank you, again, for doing this. I know it's probably difficult for you—"

"I may be angry with him, but I always told him he could come talk to me about this, no matter what. I'm going to make sure he knows I still mean it."

—

Blaine was hiding in his bathroom with the door locked. Cooper was cleaning in the kitchen and Blaine hoped he wouldn't come upstairs anytime soon. He was on his seventh cut and the tightness in his chest wasn't loosening. It wasn't working, it just seemed to be pulling tighter, tighter, tight—

He jumped, dropping his razor when his phone started ringing. He swallowed, recognizing the ringtone.

Teenage Dream.

_Kurt._

He scrambled to pull the device from his pocket, fumbling to press answer.

"Hello?" he breathed out.

"Blaine, hey, it's me," Kurt sounded a bit breathless when he spoke, like he'd been holding his breath.

"Hey… um… it-it's nice to h-hear from you?" he winced at how unsure and nervous he sounded. He held the phone with his shoulder, reaching up and grabbing a towel to hold to his wrist.

"Yeah, I um… wanted to talk to you," at least Blaine wasn't the only one who didn't seem to know what to day, "is there anyway we could skype? I feel like this conversation will go better if I can see you."

"Um," Blaine looked down at his bloody wrist, he didn't want Kurt to see him like this. Kurt had seen the scars, but he'd never seen him with still healing wounds on his arms. If he knew what Blaine was doing…

"Cooper called me," Kurt told him quietly when Blaine had been silent for a few minutes.

Blaine tensed.

"I… I really want to see you, Blaine. I want to see for myself… there's a part of me that hopes Cooper's lying, but I know he wouldn't do that."

"And…" Blaine took a deep breath, "and wh-what if I don't… I don't want you t-to see me?"

Kurt was silent for a moment, "Please?" he begged quietly.

Blaine folded in on himself, "Okay… give me ten minutes."

"Please, _please _don't try to cover it up, Blaine. I want to see you as you are."

"It's… it's not that. I-I need to take care of my arm…" he bit his lip when he heard Kurt gasp quietly, "At this point, I don't th-think even you could ma-make me look presentable if I gave you the rest of the week to try," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Kurt forced out a watery laugh, "I'll talk to you in ten minutes, Blaine," his voice was thick with tears, "I'm setting a timer."

Blaine smiled weakly and hung up the phone.

He set to work, cleaning his cuts and wrapping them lightly in gauze. He thought about putting on a long sleeved shirt, but Kurt already knew so what would the point in that be. He ran his fingers through his curls, trying to smooth them out a bit. He gave up after a minute, going into his bedroom and dragging his laptop onto the bed.

He ducked his head when Kurt came on the screen, scared to meet his eyes.

Kurt smiled shyly, "You look better than I was imagining," he told him gently.

"Glad I'm not a walking skeleton?" Blaine said, his lips quirking into a small smirk that didn't quite reach his dull, hazel eyes.

Kurt was still looking him over, his eyes trailing along every bit of Blaine that he could see. His gaze lingered on his bandaged arms. Blaine stiffened, wrapping them around his body tightly to hide them. Kurt's face fell, but he didn't say anything.

Blaine cleared his throat after an awkward silence, "Y-you look good, Kurt." He meant it. Kurt always looked good, even if he was currently sporting dark circles under his eyes.

"Thank you, Blaine."

They lapsed back into another uncomfortable silence.

"You wanted to talk," Blaine reminded him.

Kurt nodded slowly, "I… I know our relationship has gone to crap this past month," Kurt started.

"You mean I absolutely shattered everything we had," Blaine ammended.

Kurt took a deep breath, "I… I just wanted to make sure you know I'm still here for you. When I told you that you could talk to me about…" he swallowed, fighting back tears, "about your cutting, no matter where we stood, I meant it. And that includes right now. If you want to talk, I'm here."

Blaine stared at his keyboard resolutely, his fingers digging into his sides. "I don't want your pity, Kurt," Blaine bit out.

Kurt paused, "I-I didn't—"

"Don't just start talking to me again because you feel bad for me, or feel like it's your duty to stop me from cutting," Blaine's voice was surprisingly strong, "You didn't seem to care about how I felt before I cheated, so why should you now? I don't need a knight in shining armour, Kurt. I need a way to cope, to control the pain I'm feeling, and that's what this is doing, so unless you can give me that, don't bother."

"The ice—" Kurt started.

"Doesn't work!" Blaine shouted, "It's not enough, it can't overshadow the look on your face—" Blaine broke off, a choked sob bubbling out of his throat.

Kurt looked around helplessly, "I don't know what you want me to do, Blaine," he muttered quietly.

Blaine scoffed, "I don't want you to do anything! Didn't you hear me?" he looked directly into the camera lens, "I gave you an out, I set you free! I didn't want to hold you back anymore. You have a perfect life in New York, tons of hot guys to flirt with… Why would you bother with me? You don't have to try and fix me, I let you go so you wouldn't have to deal with how broken I am anymore. I know Cooper called you, but he shouldn't have. This isn't your problem… I made sure it wasn't your problem."

Kurt shook his head, "This is _always_ going to be my problem, Blaine," he told him fiercely.

"I don't _need _your help, Kurt," Blaine said, his teeth clenched.

"Well, too bad! You're getting it!"

"I don't wa—"

"No," Kurt cut him off, "My turn." Blaine's jaw snapped shut, a shocked look on his face, "I don't know what you're talking about, setting me free and all that, but no matter what you think you've done, or you tried to do, this will always be my problem. Because no matter how fucking pissed at you I am, I can't help the fact that I _love you_," he voice broke, "And therefore, I can't stand to see you waste away into nothingness because you made a shitty _mistake_. Yes, I read your texts and emails and listened to the voicemails. I _know_it was a mistake. I _know _you didn't do it to hurt me. I _know _you wanted to take it back the second you did it. I haven't forgiven you yet, but I still don't want to see you hurting yourself because of this.

"So, we are going to skype, everyday, okay? In that time, hopefully you will talk to me, hopefully I can convince you to stop cutting and throw out the razors, hopefully we can get to the bottom of this and fix whatever has made you feel this way. I don't care how long this takes, I'm not giving up on you, Blaine. I will be here every step of the way in getting you to feel better, and that is something you have no say in. You can try to push me away, but that won't stop me. Do you understand?"

Blaine nodded wordlessly, his eyes wide.

"Now, have you eaten dinner yet?"

—

Blaine walked into the kitchen the next morning, Cooper was at the stove with some scrambled eggs. Blaine hugged him from behind. "Thanks, Coop," he whispered.

Cooper smiled, "For what?"

Blaine shrugged, going to pull some plates out of the cupboard, "For everything, I guess."


End file.
